


The Incident

by chillydeer



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Annette catches feelings, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fluff, Humor, Minor Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillydeer/pseuds/chillydeer
Summary: (A love story brought to you by Netteflix, my favorite dumb ship name.)It all started with the Greenhouse Incident. Then came the Training Grounds Incident, the Library Incident, and the Stables Incident.Annette's life was now a series of Incidents in which Felix Hugo Fraldarius intruded on her personal space, stomped all over her normal routine, and refused to get out of her head.The thing was, she kind of liked it?
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 36
Kudos: 223





	The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> A warning: while this is mostly cute and fluffy, there are mentions of implied character deaths and canon-typical violence. If that's not something you want to see, feel free to click away.

Annette had a slight problem.

The newly risen sun slanted through the leafy fingers of the ferns in front of her, and she shielded her eyes. The greenhouse was at its quietest in the early mornings, and Annette enjoyed the time to herself when doing her twice-weekly gardening. 

The problem was, lately there was an intruder in her thoughts (and sometimes in person), who made it much more difficult to get things done according to her normal routine. She’d bribed the professor to swap gardening days with her, taking over their kitchen cleanup instead, but it didn’t matter. 

It started just a few weeks ago, when Felix had crept up on her in the greenhouse and asked her to sing. She didn’t know what had come over him. He was always so abrasive and uncaring (had the man never heard of tact?), but that day he’d smiled and _blushed_ , even brushing her hand with his when she’d finished singing thirty minutes later and they were sitting cross-legged on the greenhouse floor.

“I wouldn’t think Felix one for gardening, but maybe I’m wrong,” Mercedes had pondered with a finger to her lips, after Annette had favored her and Ashe with the (abridged) story over lunch the next day. Ashe had raised his eyebrows at Mercie afterward, but then Annette stopped paying attention because she’d spilled her entire tray of food down the front of her dress again.

A sudden noise made her gasp: she’d dropped her trowel in the middle of reminiscing. A quick glance to either side told her she was still alone. _Cripes, get a hold of yourself, Annie!_

A week after what Annette now dubbed the Greenhouse Incident, she’d been minding her own business in the greenhouse yet again, well before anyone else should have been stirring, when Felix poked his head in the door. Upon seeing Annette, he’d nodded brusquely at her and stammered an excuse - he was on his way to train and thought he’d heard humming - closing the door with a “see you later” before she could even get a word in. 

(No smile that time, but his bleary-eyed expression and hair sticking up on one side had kept her mind occupied for the entire rest of her gardening routine.) 

The following week, Annette had taken a bit longer cleaning her room, reaching the greenhouse later than usual. Felix had already been inside. Dust from the training grounds had decorated his boots, his dark hair damp from the sauna. He’d smelled like cedar and soap. Had he finished his training already? 

Annette had gaped at him like a fish out of water. Felix had run a bashful hand through his unkempt bangs, holding a watering can. “You weren’t here, so I thought I’d just water things,” he’d said, as if it were obvious. And he’d stayed with her while she checked on all the seedlings, making casual conversation - as casual as Felix could possibly be - like they weren’t in the middle of a war!

That had been the last straw. She did not understand what his purpose was in seeking her out so much, and truthfully, she didn’t understand her own reaction to it. 

And therein lied the real problem: sometimes she wanted him to find her, and sometimes she dreaded it. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, jumping at the slightest noises. She couldn’t even sing on her own anymore without becoming self-conscious. 

It’s not as if she didn’t _like_ Felix, of course she did, when he wasn’t being rude and evil. And he was cute, she admitted. Seeing him after five years was almost like meeting a new person; true, he wasn’t any taller, but his shoulders had filled out and his voice had deepened subtly. His attitude, if anything, was sharper - he argued as much as ever. A few times during war meetings, Annette would catch herself staring at the little crease between his eyebrows when he was angry, or the cute way he turned his head to the side when he knew he was in the wrong but wouldn’t relent.

After one instance of staring, Mercedes had held a hand to Annette’s forehead and asked if she was feverish because her face looked hot. Annette might have died right then; didn’t Mercie _realize_ she was embarrassing her in front of the whole war council?

The creak of the greenhouse door interrupted her thoughts. Annette flinched, knocking over the pot of dirt at her side and sending fertilizer scattering along the floor. 

“Annette! I’m so sorry, did I startle you?” It was Ashe, wearing a kitchen apron and balancing a basket of fresh bread on his hip. 

“Oh, no, I’m fine! Really!” She hastily scooped the dirt back into the pot. The blood that had rushed to her face faded, and her heart rate slowed. _Not Felix, it’s not Felix._ “Nothing to worry about in the slightest!” 

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, smearing dirt on her cheek.

Ashe smiled. “I came to bring you some breakfast. Here, take one of these and let me help clean up.”

“Thanks, Ashe, but I have it under control, everything’s fine!” She began scooping faster. Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone for five minutes?

“Annette, I insist. Come on.”

She sighed, sitting back on her butt with a soft flop. The bread did smell amazing, she supposed. “Fine.”

The two of them sat, each with half a baguette in hand, letting the steam from inside warm their faces. 

“How did you know I was here?” asked Annette through a mouthful.

Ashe swallowed before answering. “Oh, Professor Byleth told me. Said you might want something to eat since you’ve been up since dawn.” 

She nearly choked. Byleth! She assumed they’d have her back, not go tattling on her to anyone who asked. Annette shoved another wad of bread in her mouth and resolved never to ask favors of anyone ever again.

~

The next Saturday, Annette reluctantly agreed to swap tasks with Ingrid, who said she was meeting someone in town and would be out for the whole day. Annette was so surprised by this revelation - Ingrid never shirks her duties, and was that _makeup_ she was wearing? - that she said yes before realizing what’d she signed up for. 

This is how Annette found herself opening the door to the training grounds, extra rags in hand, on her way to clean and polish the training weapons and replace any broken ones. 

She’d waited until lunchtime, when as few people would be there as possible, to make her move. So far so good - the door echoed slightly when it shut, but no other signs of noise were present. 

She slunk along the wall to the rack of weapons, retrieving the polish from the shelf to one side. Everything needed shining, from the wooden swords to steel axes and silver bows, so she set to work. 

Annette rarely wielded weapons in battle, training almost exclusively in magic, but there was something soothing about the motions of running the cloth along the blades, the smell of oil and wood and leather. “Slender swords and twangy bows,” she sang under her breath. “Mighty warriors in their throes--”

A sudden sound cut her off. Someone else was here. 

Holding her breath, Annette edged around the side of a pillar to peek. Oh Goddess, it was Felix, of course it was him. 

Felix strode into the open yard toward the dummies in one corner. Annette held absolutely still as he passed. 

Why, of all people, did he have to be the one to come in while Annette was trapped in here? She knew for a fact that Felix had trained for an hour this morning, what in Ailell was he doing back already? 

Okay, everything was fine. She would be fine, as long as he didn’t need a weapon from this rack. He’d brought his own swords, so chances were good he wouldn’t spot her. 

She peeked again. Felix had removed his cape and outer jacket, leaving the black turtleneck he perpetually wore like a second skin. His sword aloft, his feet flew back and forth, then side to side, in meticulous exercises.

It was nice to watch, she reasoned, strictly from an aesthetic point of view. The fluidity of his arms (he moved with such poise, it was almost unfair), his unfaltering concentration. And, well, it didn’t hurt that he had a nice butt, and his legs looked _really_ good in those boots.

 _No, no, no._ She felt her face heat up and turned around. She was _not_ supposed to be staring like this. She was here to do her chores and nothing else. Certainly not speak to (or stare at) Felix Fraldarius. 

Annette could do this. She could ignore him; he was certainly ignorant of her. She would simply go back to polishing the lances without a care in the whole world, and if he were to see her, well then she’d smile and--

“I know you’re there,” Felix spoke all of a sudden. “You can come out, you know.”

“Eep!” Annette squealed, dropping the lance and polish with a crash. _Goddess, please, let me sink into the floor._

“Annette?” 

Felix appeared around the other side of the pillar, no longer holding his sword. 

“Oh, hi Felix!” Annette’s voice came out a squeak, and her blush returned with a vengeance. “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to clean the weapons.”

“I see.” 

Neither of them moved. Annette wrung the polish-smeared rag between her hands. 

“Um, well, I’m almost done,” she said, bending to pick up the fallen lance. “Then I’ll be out of your hair. You’d better not tell anyone about this! I’ll polish your swords, I’ll...I’ll...”

This was worse than him catching her singing. There was no explanation for spying on him, it just happened, it wasn’t like Annette made a point of popping in unannounced (unlike a certain _someone_ currently standing five feet away from her).

“Annette.” It came out almost a laugh. “Why would I tell anyone? I’m the one who followed you in here.”

She stood, her jaw dropping. “You what?”

“I was hoping for a song while I trained,” he said. Was that the hint of a _smile_? Was he teasing her? “Do you have any about swords? I thought I heard something when I came in.”

“Felix!” Annette wailed. She hid her face in the dirty rag and then immediately removed it, wrinkling her nose. “You can’t just ambush me like that! And no, I do not have any songs about swords, for your information!”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Ugh, this is so humiliating. I have to go!” 

She whisked the lance up off the floor, sending the bottle of polish rolling directly to Felix’s feet. For crying out loud, would nothing have pity on her? Whatever, he could pick it up if he wanted.

“Annette, wait.”

She whirled around, a hand on her hip. Felix had his eyes on the floor behind her. His cheeks were slightly pink. “I was thinking. It might be nice to train together.”

It was pure luck that she didn’t drop the lance all over again, or maybe a sliver of divine mercy. 

“Together?” She scrunched her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that, I haven’t used a sword since we were students, and--”

“No, but you’ve faced swordsmen, and you’ll continue to face them in the battles ahead. Besides, you can show me some of that footwork of yours. It’s quite impressive.”

Annette narrowed her eyes. If he were anyone else, she would suspect him of flirting with her, but Felix said all this without inflection, without even looking at her, his face as impassive as if he were asking the time of day.

He stepped closer, close enough for Annette to see the beads of sweat along his forehead. Another step and she’d be able to feel his body heat. The thought made her face flame again. But she wouldn’t let him get to her. She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. 

“Okay. Yes, I’m in.” There, she even managed a smile. _How about that, mister catch-me-off-my-guard?_

“Oh.” His mouth twitched. “Alright, then.”

And that’s how she found herself a minute later, poised at one end of the training yard while Felix crouched in his fighting stance at the other, a wooden sword in his hand. His gaze was boring a hole through her forehead, she was sure of it. He’d never looked at her so intently before; it raised the hairs on the back of her neck, and she willed with all her might for her cheeks not to heat up again. No, she would take this like a woman.

(Of course freaking Felix would only make direct eye contact in battle, the idiot.)

“Felix, I can’t. I’ll hit you!” she called, shifting her weight.

He ground his foot into the dirt. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will!”

“Just...aim for the dummies if you have to.”

“What if I miss?” 

“Annette.” He rolled his eyes. “Will you just trust me? I’m going to come at you, and you need to dodge me. Use some of your dance moves.”

Her dance moves! Why had she agreed to this madness? He was too cruel, doing this to her. Annette fought the urge to close her eyes. 

“On three.”

She didn’t even hear him count down. Felix sped toward her in a blur, but she had no time to marvel at his speed, he was nearly there, he would slice her open at this rate. Goddess, what would she tell Mercie if she showed up to dinner with a stab wound, what would her _father_ do—

She gave in and closed her eyes, powerful wind rushing from her hands in a burst of energy just as an equally powerful force collided with her, sending both of them to the ground in a heap. The other force, which must have been Felix, rolled off of her within seconds. 

“Annette!”

She held a palm to her forehead, waiting for the spinning to end. “Ohhhhhhh...”

“Annette, _saints_ , I didn’t mean—I,” Felix sounded anxious, a tone which bemused Annette, or would if she weren’t still reeling from him body checking her to the ground. She squinted up at him - now standing above her, red-faced - and tried to focus while her mind swam.

He flexed his hands a few times, looking anywhere but at her face, before thrusting his hand in front of her and hauling her to her feet, ungracefully but somewhat gentle.

“Are you—” he started. “I’m...this may not have been the best idea.”

Annette couldn’t concentrate on replying because he had his arm around her lower back, supporting her. She could barely make out his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and her fingers were grazing his bicep, the other hand still grasped in Felix’s own.

He seemed to notice this at the same time, abruptly letting her go. In her fuzziness, she registered a small regret at the absence of his warmth, which floated out of her mind as quickly as it entered.

“Ergh,” she managed. “I’m alright. Are you…?”

One of his sleeves was torn, she saw, and the dummy a ways off looked as if its arm had been sliced clean off by a blade. She groaned. What if that had been _him?_ He was the best swordsman in their army, perhaps apart from the professor. She couldn’t bear the responsibility of affecting their chances like this, she’d have to take up a sword herself and--

 _Annie, you worry too much_ , she could almost hear Mercedes say. 

“I’m fine,” said Felix, back to his gruff self. He picked up the sword and tossed it to his other hand. “Let’s just forget this happened. I’ll take care of the weapon maintenance, you should...you should go to the infirmary or something.”

“Okay,” she said dumbly. Even though she could heal herself perfectly well, thanks to her Faith studies of late. “Okay.”

~

Felix didn’t talk to her for a while after that. And then Byleth mustered the troops and they were marching, on to the Valley of Torment, to meet Lord Rodrigue and his soldiers. The war continued, and morale improved with the addition of reinforcements. But in the presence of his father, and with the continuing stubbornness of Prince Dimitri, Felix became even more closed off. 

Annette missed their awkward chats more than she would willingly say. Though it turned out her friends knew her too well for her to bother hiding anything. 

“Annie, are you alright?” Mercedes asked her at breakfast one morning. “You seem preoccupied with something. Is anything bothering you?”

Annette shoved an entire spoonful of hot soup into her mouth and winced. Ashe, sitting on her other side, reached out to rub her back. She gulped. “N-no, why would you think that?”

Mercedes smiled in that knowing way of hers. “You’re zoning out more than usual.”

She stared pointedly at the breadcrumbs littering Annette’s tray and her lap, and Annette frowned, brushing them onto the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine. Hunky-dory in fact.”

“I haven’t seen you in the greenhouse as much,” Ashe piped up. “But don’t worry, your flowers are flourishing, I have it covered.”

Mercedes’ eyes widened in surprise. “I hope you’re not losing interest in gardening, Annie.”

Annette stuck out her tongue but did not dignify Mercie’s teasing with an answer.

“Thanks, Ashe.” She shot him a grateful look. “You don’t have to do that, I’ve just been studying in the library a lot recently, but I’ll take care of them. I don’t want you doing extra chores on my behalf.”

They ate in companionable silence for a minute, and Annette thought she might be out of the woods, when Mercedes spoke again. 

“Felix is looking particularly glum lately,” she mused. “You don’t think it has to do with his father the Duke being at the monastery, do you?”

This time Annette held onto her utensils, but her voice betrayed her. “Is he?” It came out much too high-pitched. “I haven’t noticed.”

Ashe eyed her before scanning the area where Felix was sitting. “Hmm, he looks like he could use some flowers to cheer him up.”

“That’s a great idea, Ashe!” Mercedes’ expression glowed, a perfect deception of her _truly evil_ nature. “Annie, why don’t you bring him some of those peonies you’ve been growing. They’re really blooming this week.”

Oh, no no no. Annette was not about to be dragged into this. She had told Mercedes a version of the Training Grounds Incident after it happened, leaving out some of the more embarrassing details, but she began to regret sharing any of it. And she and Felix had come to a tentative stalemate, not avoiding each other so much as pretending they were mere acquaintances. He would nod at her while walking past, and she would nod in return. If they happened to see each other less often than before, well, it was just coincidence. That was all. 

Bringing him flowers would definitely break that vibe, and she was not about to be the first to cave. Also flowers were _romantic_ , what was Mercie thinking?!

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Besides, Felix would probably prefer a nice steak or something.” She clamped her mouth shut, regretting the words the second they left her. 

“You should cook him dinner then,” said Ashe, his eyes glittering with far too mischief for Annette’s liking. 

“ _Ashe_ ,” she groaned. “I am a horrible cook, there’s absolutely no way I am doing that, and what is your _preoccupation_ with Felix, anyway?” She drew out the word and glared at Mercedes, who stifled a giggle. 

“Oh, nothing, just an observation,” Mercedes replied. She took a bite of the sweet bun in her hand, perfectly content, as if she weren’t trying to torture Annette with her so-called “observations.” 

“Maybe you should sing him a song,” said Ashe. “Otherwise, it looks like he might set something on fire with his eyes.” 

“I will set both of you on fire if you keep talking about this,” Annette hissed. 

“I thought you didn’t know any fire magic.”

“Ugh! Don’t think I won’t learn it to spite you!”

He and Mercedes snickered into their food. Annette was torn between wanting to crawl under the table and hide for the rest of the meal and casting a Cutting Gale at her best friends, who were clearly bullying her for no reason. But that thought made her recall the gale she’d thrown at Felix, and subsequently the feel of his arm around her, and she blushed all over again, burying her face in her hands. 

What in the world was becoming of her?

~

Annette did not bring Felix any flowers, despite the fact that her peonies were unfurling in the most gorgeous way, all purple and yellow and red against the stark late-winter light of the monastery. 

Nor did she cook him any meals, perish the thought. In fact, she hardly saw him at all the next month outside of their group meetings, until one evening she walked into the library to see him seated at her favorite table. 

She was so shocked she nearly tripped over the carpet edge, which of course caused Felix to glance up from his book and notice her. 

He nodded according to their usual modus operandi. “Annette.”

“Hello, Felix,” she said, taking the chair across from him. She’d be damned if she would relinquish her favorite study spot to Felix of all people. 

Annette cracked open her book on Faith to the page with her parchment notes crammed in the seam. Felix made no move to leave, but neither did he acknowledge her. The silence unnerved her for some reason.

After a minute, she whispered, “I’ve got one, you know. A song. About swords.”

“Oh?” Felix raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it then.”  
  
He closed his book and folded his hands atop it, looking at her expectantly.

“Right now?” Annette asked. 

He shrugged. “Why else did you bring it up?”

“I don’t know, to cheer you up? Maybe to sing to you later, in a less exposed environment?”

“To cheer me up,” he repeated dryly. “I don’t need cheering up, I’m fine.”

“So you don’t want to hear it then?” Annette countered.

“I never said that.”

“Well, anyway, I’m here to study, so you’ll just have to wait.” She scooted her chair inward and picked up her notes, straightening the edges along the lip of the table. “This is a place of quiet concentration, you know.”

Felix went back to his book. “Psh. That’s never stopped you before--ow!” Annette kicked him under the table.

“Shhhhh!” hissed one of the monks on staff, walking past them.

Annette glared at Felix. “See? I told you,” she said through gritted teeth. He scowled at her and rubbed his shin. 

A flash of blond caught Annette’s eye, and she spied Ingrid at a shelf in the corner, wearing a funny expression. When she saw Annette looking, she slid her eyes very deliberately in Felix’s direction and winked. Annette instantly felt her cheeks heat up, and she shook her head, eyes widening. What the hell, Ingrid? What kind of insinuation was she trying to make? 

As if on cue, Ingrid approached them, her armor clanking against one of the tables as she bumped into it. 

“Ah, Felix, I see you’re reading the book the professor recommended,” she said in greeting. It was then Annette caught the title on the spine: _Theory of Reason_. A beginner’s magic book?

Felix grunted without looking at her. “Ingrid. What do you want?”

“Nothing. I came to say hello and wish you luck, that’s all.” Ingrid adjusted the stack of books in her arms and smiled. “You know, Annette is one of the best at Reason in our class. Maybe you should ask her for some tips.”

Annette blushed at the compliment. “You’re learning Reason magic?” she asked him.

“Professor Byleth believes Felix could have untapped talent in Reason and suggested he do some research.”

“I said I’d consider it,” said Felix. “Not that I can do any such thing with you lurking over my shoulder. Go read your fairy tales and leave us alone.”

 _Us?_ Annette wondered.

Ingrid made a face behind his back, and Annette choked a laugh with her fist. She waited until Ingrid had left to pick up the thread of conversation. “So. Researching magic, huh?”

He resolutely kept his focus on the pages. “Trying to.”

“Want me to help?”

“I don’t need assistance to read, if that’s what you’re offering.”

She frowned. He could sure use assistance to _lighten up_. 

“What chapter are you on?” Annette stuck her face in the way of his light source, squinting at the upside-down text. “Have you made it to motion practice? I could show you how to form the basic wind spell.”

She’d forgotten to keep her voice low, and the monk from earlier shot them a warning glare.

Felix tugged the book back into the light. “I’ve literally been reading for five minutes, so no, I’m not there yet.”

“Oh.”

Annette tried to remember the very beginning of her Reason studies back in Fhirdiad. They’d spent the entire first two months memorizing the theory behind each spell type and the most effective uses for them. Felix, on the other hand, had war experience witnessing magic from all sides, sometimes too closely. He could afford to skip a few chapters. 

“Please?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Come on, you don’t need to read the boring stuff. Let me show you a spell.”

“And have you blow up the library? I’ll pass, thanks.” 

Ohhhh, he did not just go there. Annette snatched the book out of his hands and snapped it shut. Felix flinched. 

“What the hell?”

“Get up, come on.” She stood and crossed to his side, grabbing his arm and yanking him upward. “We’ll do the motions together.”

“Saints, fine, just let go of me.”

“Okay, here’s the stance.” She spread her feet just farther than shoulder-width apart, toes forward. “Next, you bring your dominant arm back…” She demonstrated. “And take your other hand across your body like this.” Her left arm curved inward, palm down with her fingers slightly curled. “Then you strike forward with your spell arm just under here.”

She took a small step with her left foot and flung her right hand out at shoulder height, turning the other arm so that her left hand now hung at her elbow, palm facing outward.

“Now you try,” she said, smiling.

Felix eyed her warily. “Alright.”

He raised his arms.

“No, you have to make the stance first,” she said.

Rolling his eyes, Felix complied, shifting into a position similar to his sword stance. 

“No, not like that!” Annette resumed her previous pose and pointed at her feet. “They should be even to start.”

He grumbled something Annette couldn’t hear but moved his feet to match hers. The tittering of whispers floated toward them from the opposite corner from where a group of knights were looking curiously in their direction, but Annette ignored them. This was _magic_ , her favorite activity. Propriety be damned.

“Okay, now try the arm movements.”

Felix mimicked her motions from earlier with surprising accuracy. Annette raised her eyebrows in approval. “Wow, you’re not bad. Now try it this way.”

She adjusted his arms, lifting one higher and bending the other into a sharper curve. They were difficult to maneuver with his puffy sleeves. “So they end like this.”

This was the closest Annette had been in proximity to Felix since their failed training stint, and her pulse picked up at the reminder. She swallowed and let her mind focus on the magic at hand. At least they weren’t facing each other this time; she’d almost sliced him apart that day, and she was not about to risk that again.

Felix sighed. “Are you done manhandling me?”

“Patience,” she said, fighting a blush. “Do you want to perfect the form or not?”

“I want to be able to move my own arms again.”

Annette dropped her hands with a huff. “Fine. Here you go. But let’s try it together this time. One, two, three...”

With a nod as her signal, they performed the moves not quite in sync, Felix taking a split second longer to return to his neutral stance. Annette had let a bit of magic trickle through, and their books flew off the table and onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Heh, oops.” She bit her lip and snuck a peek at the library staff, but they were occupied with another set of studious knights. “Let’s go again. I bet in a few more tries we’ll have you hit that shelf over there.”

Five minutes and three fallen shelves later, the monk on duty dragged each of them by the wrist and practically threw them out of the library with a stern warning not to come back until they were prepared to behave. The door slammed shut behind them. 

Annette smiled sheepishly at Felix, who shot a dirty look at the door. Dust covered his boots to his knees. 

She waited for him to say something sarcastic and biting, but instead he glanced at her and laughed. His entire torso was shaking from mirth, and he clutched his stomach, gasping for air. It was an odd and endearing sight, if slightly humiliating.

“I can’t believe you did it. You almost blew up the library.” The shaking had subsided, but he was now dabbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Now I know the song ends with you being thrown out by the staff.”

“It does not!” Annette protested. “You already heard the ending of that one. Ugh, you are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“I’m afraid not.” He reached a hand toward her and flipped over a stray piece of her hair that had blown out of place with the wind spells. “Someone has to warn the rest of the monastery about the library menace.”

He was standing too close again, his voice too low and serious. She couldn’t look at him, terrified that her face would meet the same fiery fate as the fictional library. _What in Seiros’ name was happening to her?_ “Um, we can try again another day, if you want. If you’re still interested in, um, magic. You almost had it that last time.” 

Pathetic, Annette. Real cute. 

Felix wiped a singed glove on his pants and frowned as a layer of grime appeared on the blue fabric. “No, thanks. I’ll stick to swords, if you don’t mind.”

~

Lysithea selected a chocolate eclair from the plate between them with two-fingered delicacy, and then tossed it in her mouth with somewhat less delicacy. 

In the seat next to her, Annette slumped over her notes, knocking aside her own half-eaten pastry. “I can’t believe the professor is still making us take certification exams. We haven’t been students in five years.”

They were in the tea garden, enjoying Mercedes’ latest plate of baked creations, waiting for Mercedes herself to join them. The air was warm for Lone Moon, which combined with the sunshine was not helping Annette feel motivated to study.

Lysithea, who had received her certification for Gremory the previous week - and was a little too smug about it in Annette’s opinion - shrugged. “We have to prove ourselves capable somehow. It’s risky for Byleth to allow us the use of certain techniques if we can’t demonstrate our mastery of them.”

Annette blew a piece of hair out of her face, still lying on top of her arms. “That’s not what you said last month when you asked, no _begged_ the professor to let you use Hades at Ailell.”

“Hmph!” Lysithea crossed her arms. “You’re just mad that I made Gremory before you.”

“Am not!”

Annette flipped her head to lay on the other side, when she caught sight of her father walking toward the Knights Hall with Lord Rodrigue. The Duke was smiling, his hands raised in animated gestures while he talked. Her father, absorbed in the conversation, appeared less taciturn than usual, a rare sight indeed.

Annette wondered what they could be discussing in such good humor. Military matters or news from the Kingdom couldn’t possibly merit those expressions.

Oh saints, what if they were talking about _her and Felix_? In a flash of panic, she imagined marriage contracts and dowry terms and all the other horrors that accompanied a formal Kingdom wedding for the nobility, and her mother gushing about what a great catch Felix was, the heir to Fraldarius House, and her uncle giving them his official blessing, and the whole exhausting rigamarole of the ceremony, and okay maybe Felix would look pretty nice in a fancy uniform, even though he’d probably scowl through the whole thing and challenge all of the guests to a duel. 

Okay, some of that she would pay to see.

“Annette, are you even listening to me?”

Lysithea poked her in the elbow, hard. 

“Ow! What was that for?” Annette asked, bolting upright and massaging her arm. Her movement jostled her notes off the table and onto the grass behind them. 

“I was _saying_ you don’t have to worry about your certification. You’ll nail it.” Lysithea popped another eclair into her mouth. “Mmm, these are delicious.”

“Oh yeah? Well, not only will I pass, I’ll do it with a better score than you did!” said Annette, slamming a fist on the table.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try!”

They went back and forth like this for another few minutes, during which time Annette got up to retrieve her study materials, slipped on the grass and fell, painting a nice green stain on the back of her dress and her gloves. Lysithea laughed in sympathy and then waved her goodbyes, heading off to the library to meet Cyril, no doubt. (Annette would be annoyed, but honestly they were so adorable it was hard to be upset.)

Ugh, she would have to do her laundry for the second time this week, but there was nothing for it. She craned her neck over her shoulder to assess the damage and was attempting to scratch off the stains when she heard her name. “Annie?”

Mercedes had finally arrived, and she wasn’t alone. 

“That’s an interesting new look you’ve got going on, Annette. Green’s risky for us gingers, but you make it work.” Sylvain slid into Lysithea’s vacant seat and imitated her recent eclair-popping behavior. “Mmm, this is incredible,” he said through a bite. He examined the plate and then Mercedes, who had taken the seat beside him. “Did you make these, Mercedes? This is the most delicious pastry I’ve ever eaten, including all of the treats I used to smuggle at the royal palace.”

Annette rolled her eyes and dropped into her chair. “Hello to you too, Sylvain.”

“Are you alright, Annie? I brought some tea,” said Mercie, and Annette noticed the steaming pot and tray of teacups she’d set in front of them. 

“Oh! Yeah, just had a little accident, nothing to worry about.” She hid her stained gloves in her lap. 

Mercedes served them tea - Bergamot, for Sylvain’s benefit most likely - and Annette took hers gladly. The warmth of the cup soothed her hands, and the soft wisps of steam tickled her nose. Honestly, was there anything better than tea and sweets with your best friend?

“Oh, Annie! I forgot to tell you earlier that Felix asked about you the other day.”

Tea dribbled down Annette’s chin, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the flow. This quickly turned into a coughing fit. Goddess, Mercie! Why did she always bring up Felix? Annette began rethinking the whole best friend thing.

“He did? Why would he do that?” Annette asked, after using both her own and Mercedes’ napkins to wipe her face. She thought, unbidden, of his stupid laugh outside the library the other day and almost coughed all over again. She hadn’t even told Mercedes about the Library Incident yet.

Sylvain studied her, and with the way his eyes morphed from curiosity to understand it was as if she could see the gears turning in his head. “I knew it. You do have it bad for him.”

“What? I do not!”

But he only grinned wider. “Your face is telling me a very different story. This is good, though! I’m fairly certain you’re not alone in these feelings.”

Annette ignored the comment about her blushing, which she knew she was doing despite all her efforts to the contrary.

“Stop it,” she hissed, looking around wildly at the other tables. “You’re just making that up to embarrass me!”

A pair of soldiers nearby glanced their way, and Annette grew even redder. She turned pleading eyes to Mercie, who just sipped her tea and smiled. Ugh, was one date with Sylvain really enough to make Mercedes team up against her like this? How good could it have been? No wait, she did not want to know.

“Would I lie to you?” Sylvain countered, his voice like honey.

“Yes,” both she and Mercie answered in unison.

He raised his eyebrows. “Wow, okay.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Annette said. “I do not... _feel that way_ about Felix.” She leaned forward and lifted her tea to her mouth with more success this time. 

Sylvain laughed. “You’re cute when you’re in denial, you know.”

“Sylvain! Ugh, why is everyone ganging up on me?”

“Annie, it’s okay, you can admit it to us.” Mercedes said, her smile alight with conspiracy. 

“Seriously, I know you think I’m teasing - and well, I am, but you know, still - I think you’re really having an effect on him,” continued Sylvain. He waved a cookie in one hand, heedless of the crumbs flying off it. “Felix has been having a rough time. Seeing His Highness like this is really getting to him. And of course, his father always prioritizes the prince over his own son.”

Annette chewed on a nail. She knew what that was like. A sudden realization hit her: it must have been Prince Dimitri that the Duke and her father were discussing earlier so happily, probably memories of him as a young child. She was such an idiot. 

Was Felix having the same frustrations? 

“All the times I’ve seen him with you, he actually seemed calm for once.” Sylvain sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t heard him laugh in months, honestly he’s even more of a buzzkill than usual and it’s downright depressing.” 

“Sylvain,” Mercedes chided him. Annette did not miss the obvious fondness there. “We’re at war. You can’t expect him to be happy all the time.”

He smiled ruefully. “No, you’re right. But that’s where our charmer over here comes in.”

“Me?” Annette’s hand twitched, and her teacup clinked against the saucer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That is the lie of someone who is clearly smitten.”

She stuck out her tongue. “You’re evil, Sylvain! Besides, I happen to know that Mercie has you wrapped around her little finger.”

Mercedes giggled. “Annie!”

“You’re damn right she does,” said Sylvain. He rested his chin in both hands and gazed at Mercedes with unadulterated adoration. “She is the most divine creature I have ever beheld.”

It was Mercie’s turn to blush, and her lips curled up in a sly smile. “Sure, sure.”

~

Weeks passed, and Annette had little time to consider what Felix might be feeling, much less her own whirlwind of emotions. Byleth had them all working overtime to prepare for their next mission, their most dangerous yet. 

With Dimitri insistent upon pursuing Emperor Edelgard to her own city walls, the meager Kingdom forces found themselves at the mercy of Alliance aid in reaching the Great Bridge of Myrddin. More than just an efficient crossing into imperial lands, it was a fortress, a bastion of defense nearly as old as the monastery itself.

They needed supplies, weapons, food, horses -- Annette could hardly keep up with all the tasks required. She squeezed extra vegetables in between her plots of flowers, shoed horses with fresh iron, mended seams in dozens of shirts. And this was in between practicing spells, cooking meals, and cleaning the grounds! 

Amid all the mayhem, she didn’t fail to notice how often Felix would end up paired with her on an assigned task. More than once, Annette would show up to the stables, or the greenhouse, and instead of Ingrid or Ashe or Sylvain, it would be Felix who appeared minutes later, disgruntled and sweaty from training, only to widen his eyes when seeing Annette. 

She would not put it past Sylvain to pull a stunt this underhanded, but the others had no such motives. Or did they?

Annette threw herself into the work, doing her best not to dwell on his proximity. Sure, they’d exchange pleasantries, and occasionally she would hum while he worked in silence, but it was nothing like that day in the greenhouse weeks ago, or that day in the training yard.

(Except the one time in the stables when she tripped over a bucket and he’d caught her, telling her in that sarcastic way of his to be more careful or she’d end up trampled by a horse. She may have dwelled on that for a good two days after the fact.) 

(Or that other time she knocked over a full suit of armor in the common room and he asked if she was planning to blow up this room next, after the library. She’d been tempted to do it just to shut him up.)

(Or that time her hair had wound itself around the latch to the infirmary door while she was scrubbing the floor, trapping them both inside, and he stood so close while helping to untangle it, saying with a blush that if she wanted to kidnap him there were better ways, but not to bother because his father likely wouldn’t pay ransom. Annette thought she may as well lay down on a sick bed right then and die.)

Soon the day of their mission came, and she was standing on the great stone bridge, surrounded by her battalion of mages, arrows whizzing over her head and shouts drowning out her thoughts. More imperial soldiers kept appearing out of nowhere; she’d lost sight of the professor but did her best to stick with the plan: stay low, locate the fortress artillery, and group lightning the heck out of it. 

_Stay low, stay low,_ she repeated to herself. Her friends passed in blurs before her eyes, Ingrid on her pegasus off to strike the long-range archer, Mercie with her arm raised to the heavens belting healing spells. And that tall, broad knight in the corner with the deep voice, could it be--no, Annette would have to find out later, there was no time.

She scrambled forward, blasting through fallen stones in her way. There, up ahead, next to the central tower, she could see an imperial wagon of artillery shells. Or was it one of theirs? 

A flash of blue caught her eye; Felix flew in front of the wagon, two swords slashing at three knights in quick succession, meeting their every move with two of his own. But two more brigands were approaching from behind, and he wasn’t seeing them. 

_Why did he always insist on fighting alone?_ Annette cast her eyes back and forth between Felix and the oncoming soldiers. A third - a great knight - now joined them, and he was still occupied with the others. 

She didn’t think, hurling the strongest Sagittae she could in the direction of the hidden soldiers. It hit the tower just above their heads, dislodging stones and sending the outer wall careening down in a rush of dust and boulders on top of them. Felix yelled and leapt out of the way. He stabbed his last challenger in the throat and surged on, passing out of Annette’s sight. 

_Goddess, thank you._ Annette sighed in deep relief before an arrow landed squarely in her shoulder. 

~ 

They took the bridge, Annette learned. Ferdinand, her former classmate, had commanded the rear imperial forces, and fallen defending them. And Dedue, Dedue had come back from the dead. 

She learned all this in a quiet alcove off the main entrance of the fortress stronghold, where Mercedes had cornered her with a concoction, murmuring healing spells over Annette’s whole right side. 

Annette was able to pull the arrow free with the help of some mages in her battalion and chug a vulnerary to keep fighting, but by the time she’d caught up with the rest of the troops, it had been over. 

Mercie of course did not take this as satisfactory healing procedure, thus dragging her here and filling her in on the situation. Apparently, Annette’s spell had caught Felix by surprise, and he’d yelled at Sylvain about it, accusing him of being an insufferable halfwit and almost blowing up all the artillery. According to Mercie, Sylvain had corrected him about who cast the spell in question, at which Felix flushed beet red and told Sylvain to “go fall off a horse.” 

Which, great, things were already weird between them, but now Felix would probably be mad at Annette, too. She did _not_ need this.

The following day, they regrouped back at the monastery, leaving some troops behind to guard the bridge and taking time to recover from their victory. Annette had immediately hugged the life out of Dedue that first night back, and he’d patted her hair with affection, though she could tell his mood was dark at the state of Dimitri.

Despite this, Annette’s own mood improved, with a key victory under their belt and the sun growing warmer by the day. She stopped by the greenhouse almost daily, plucking flowers and giving bundles to the professor and Seteth and Flayn, even to her father. 

One afternoon found her in the stables, changing out the straw that lined the stalls to a tune she’d just made up. 

“Horses galloping, clomp clomp clomp. Then they’re eating, chomp chomp chomp. Cozy in their smelly stalls, but now it’s time to clean them all!” Annette sang, tossing fresh straw this way and that with a little swish of her hips each time. A horse chewed lazily beside her, unperturbed. 

“Huh, that’s a new one.”

A shadow fell over the ground in front of her and she turned around, her face pink. Felix leaned against the doorframe, gazing at the horse. 

“Are the horses galloping inside the stalls as well?” He frowned. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much room for that.” 

“Felix,” Annette whined. “It’s just a song. Why do you have to be so mean about it?”

He laughed through his nose. “Mean? I’m not--”

“I’m sorry you don’t appreciate my masterpieces,” she said, pouting. The horse snorted. 

“That’s not at all what I meant.” Felix sighed. “Look, Annette, I came here to talk. About the battle. I know you were the one to cast the spell that collapsed the watchtower.”

 _Here it comes,_ she thought. Annette straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Yeah, that was me.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. I had the situation under control. You could have hit the artillery cache, and you left yourself wide open to attack.”

“Felix, you were surrounded! I was worried! What was I supposed to do, nothing?”

“Yes!” He was standing upright now, a few steps further inside the stall. “You can’t let worry cloud your thinking in battle. It puts everyone at risk.”

Annette seethed. The nerve of him! Coming all the way here to yell at her for saving his life! It didn’t matter that he was right, she always worried too much and made careless mistakes because of it. That didn’t mean she would stand there and do nothing when one of her friends was in danger.

“Well excuse me for caring about you!” she cried. The words were out before she could consider what meaning they might hold. The bundle of straw, forgotten in her hand, fell to the floor. 

Felix lifted a hand and massaged the back of his neck, his face slightly pinker than before. “Hmph, don’t be as reckless about it next time. A poor excuse for getting yourself injured like that.”

“You know I can heal myself, right?” Annette said. She held her chin in the air, not ready to back down. “I’m perfectly good as new. See for yourself.”

She tossed her capelet over her right shoulder and drew aside the neckline of her dress, revealing a thin line where the arrow had pierced her just above the end of her collarbone. Felix stared at it for a moment before turning away. 

“Fine,” he said. “But it could have been worse. I had to…make sure it didn’t affect your range of motion or anything.” 

His tone softened, and Annette felt fluttering in her chest. _Oh._ Is that why he’d come here to argue with her? “You were concerned about me?”

He was definitely blushing now. Annette knew her own hue couldn’t be too far off, but wow did he look so cute when flustered. The thought made her smile against her will.

“Don’t get carried away. It’s only that if you were to die, there wouldn’t be any more singing. The quiet would be...disconcerting.”

He turned his head away, eyes lowered and chin lifted, just like in the war council meetings when he wouldn’t budge in his opinions. It looked even cuter up close. 

“I’m sure Sylvain could sing for you,” she teased. Predictably, Felix groaned. 

“I’d cut my own ears off before I let that happen.”

She giggled, her foot sliding on some of the straw below them. The movement set her off kilter, and she pitched forward with a yelp. Felix caught her by the elbows and slid her backward to allow her to regain her footing, balancing her against himself. 

Her laughter quickly transformed into mild panic, and the fluttering in her chest evolved into the full-on flapping of birds’ wings. Of course, she couldn’t get through this conversation without embarrassing herself, what would be the point of that. 

He was still holding her; shouldn’t he have let go by now? She tilted her face up and marveled at how close his was. The smell of wood soap enveloped her, cutting through the pungent odor of the stables. She could feel his warm breath feathering through her hair. 

Felix’s eyes darted everywhere around her, lingering on her mouth a split second longer than the rest, so quick that she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been staring at him. She glanced at his own lips, pale and slightly parted.

Was she imagining it, or was he moving closer? No, that was definitely Felix lowering his head, one agonizing millimeter at a time. Or maybe time itself had slowed. 

There was a wild rushing behind her ears, and her pulse was on fire. She was frozen to the spot, silent except for their soft breaths, eyes whispering shut as he pressed his lips to hers. Felix. Felix was kissing her! 

She opened her mouth at the contact. He was softer than she expected, though somewhat chapped. A subtle taste of spicy vegetable stew -- oh Goddess, what must her breath be like? She struggled to remember what she ate for lunch, but her mind could not process anything beyond _Felix, yes that Felix, is literally kissing you right now._

Their noses bumped as they pulled apart with soft gasps. “Oh,” Annette breathed. 

He leaned back, eyes wide and swirling with an unnamed emotion, the pink flush all the way down to his neck. “I, um, I’d better go.” He let his hands fall from her arms and jumped over scattered piles of hay. The horse sniffed at him as he rushed past.

“Felix, wait!”

But he was gone.

~

Annette lay awake thinking about the kiss for several nights in succession, racking her brain for how it could have gone better, how _she_ could have done better. 

After all, Felix was avoiding her, like really avoiding her this time. That had to be the reason, right? 

It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t completely clueless when it came to romance and, uh, things. She’d read the book Mercie let her borrow at the Academy years ago, she knew how kissing was supposed to work. And there was that one time she and Ashe had kissed during their year at the Academy before realizing their hearts weren’t in it. 

But Felix had surprised her; how was she meant to react to him kissing her after telling her off for rescuing him? 

She wanted a do-over. More than that, she wanted to explore every part of his face with her mouth, to run her fingers through the shock of his hair that never behaved, to trace his jawline with her tongue and kiss the spot beneath his ear and feel his arms wrapped around her.

(Alright, fine, maybe it was a little late in the game to admit it now, but she might just have the tiniest of crushes on one Felix Fraldarius.)

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Mercedes told her, after she’d wrung the Stables Incident story out of a very embarrassed Annette at lunch the next day. 

Annette’s hands covered her face. “Mercie, imagine the worst kiss you’ve ever had, and then imagine it’s with the person you’ve liked for months. It was so awkward.”

Mercie sighed. “Oh, dear.”

“He’s never going to speak to me again, I know it!”

“Who’s never going to speak to you?” 

Annette peeked through her fingers to see Ingrid slide onto the bench across from her and set two full plates of food on the table.

“Oh, Annie kissed Felix the other day, and she’s worried he didn’t like it,” said Mercedes with perfect calm. Annette stared at her fork and contemplated stabbing Mercedes with it, knowing she never could.

“Mercie! Can we not tell the whole world about it?”

Ingrid snorted and nearly choked on a bite of bread. “I’m sorry,” she said, noting Annette’s glare. “I’m sure it was worse for him, you know.”

“Ugh!” Annette buried her face in her hands again. “Ingrid, that is not _helping!_ ”

“Sorry, sorry,” she conceded. She stuffed a forkful of steak in her mouth. “I just meant that Felix doesn’t understand any emotion that isn’t fighting, so he probably didn’t notice.”

Annette watched as Ingrid demolished one plate of dinner and set it aside in favor of the other. “It sure seemed like he noticed.” 

“He’ll come around,” Ingrid said through more bread. “Just give it a while to blow over.”

Easier said than done. Annette spent her days avoiding any solitary encounters with Felix (and her nights imagining, well, what she’d like to do with him instead), driving herself to complete distraction. Buckets and barrels became her greatest nemeses, tripping her around every corner. On one of her assigned kitchen days, she’d broken three dishes before the cook shooed her out with an exasperated shout. 

All of this made it convenient to forget that Felix was ever nearby, until one day she collided with him outside the dining hall. She flushed crimson, her heart hammering double time as she muttered an apology and ran away, hoping that he hadn’t seen her face. Goddess, she couldn’t even look him in the eye without blushing now. 

Soon enough, however, another distraction loomed over her, and she was forced to put all other thoughts aside. It was time for their next journey into battle, and the Emperor herself would be meeting them in the field. 

~

The clash at Gronder Field was the worst fight Annette had faced thus far. 

The imperial army showed up in full force, led as promised by Emperor Edelgard. What they hadn’t counted on was Claude and the Alliance forces raining blows on them as well, in spite of the messengers they had sent in hopes of joining their troops against the Empire. 

And the worst of it was, these were her classmates, her friends, slinging spells and arrows and wielding blades against the Kingdom and their former professor. 

Annette watched in horror as her soldiers went down, one by one, to arrows from Bernadetta on the hilltop, watched as the hulking form of Dimitri with the long finger of Areadbhar silenced her as Ashe took control of the weapon. 

She saw Professor Byleth whip the Sword of the Creator at the head of a demonic crest beast while the beast beside it swiped at a bleeding Raphael in his Alliance war master garb, sending him flying to where he couldn’t get up. 

She called gale after gale upon enemy soldiers battering the side of the central hill, but it never seemed to end. One last withering group lighting split the trees ahead of her, and Annette gave the command to her battalion to retreat. Only then did she succumb, her knees buckling as she fell to the ground and vomited. There was so much blood, and fire, everything was on fire. She had to get to Mercie.

Somehow she pushed through the flames, stepping over bodies in a daze - one with a head of orange hair that had to be Leonie, and Annette held a hand over her mouth to force the bile back down. 

Then there was Claude on his white wyvern, shouting orders for the Alliance to retreat, and Prince Dimitri through the smoke staring down the face of Edelgard, with Dedue at his back. Annette couldn’t make out what happened, only the purple haze of the Emperor disappearing with Hubert yet again. She heard a howl that must have been Dimitri in a rage.

And as the dust settled and the stench of death overtook her in the calm, a young girl dressed in the colors of their own troops cried out with vengeance, and Lord Rodrigue threw himself in front of a blade meant for Dimitri. Their fragile hopes of snuffing out the empire had flickered out like candles in a storm. 

~

Annette woke to a tear-stained pillow for the fourth day in a row. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and rolled out of bed in a haze. Even if sleep evaded her, there was still work that needed doing.

Rolling up her sleeves, she dove into her cleaning routine with a mindless vigor. At least her chores pushed everything else out of her head, and she didn’t have to remember the screams and the blood of her friends, or the haunted, hollow look on Dimitri’s face as he held Lord Rodrigue in his arms. 

And Felix….she couldn’t imagine what Felix must be going through. 

She hadn’t seen him since they first returned to the monastery, though it wasn’t hard to figure out where he was. Anyone walking past the training grounds could hear his frustrated grunts and the battering of swords against all manner of training materials, even through the solid oak doors. 

Dimitri, his face stoic but determined, had gathered them all the day after their return to Garreg Mach, apologizing for his behavior in the months of late, reaffirming his commitment to the Kingdom of Faerghus, promising that he would make up for the time he’d lost, for the suffering his people had endured. Words many of them had longed to hear, though they’d already lost so much in the waiting for them. 

Annette had to pray that it would be enough. As much as she wanted the war to end as quickly as possible, she had to believe they could come from a position of greater strength if they could retake their homeland first. And, well, she really, really wanted to go home.

So she would smile through her tears, dab on some makeup, pull on her gloves, and work as hard as she damn well needed to make it happen!

Evening of the fifth day post-Gronder found her in the dining hall well after dinner hours had ended, scrubbing with both arms at a stubborn table stain and muttering to herself. She didn’t look up when the garden side door creaked open. 

“You’re going to burn through the table at that rate,” came a soft voice.

“Ack!” Annette jolted the brush too far forward and knocked over one of the ornate silver candelabras. “Sorry, Mercie, just give me a minute, I’ve almost got this.”

She gave the sore spot one last good scrub and righted the place settings, but when she looked up, it wasn’t Mercedes beside her. “Ingrid?”

“Sorry to startle you, Annette,” said Ingrid. The dim light of the remaining torches glinted off her chest armor and darkened the lines of her worried expression. “I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Of course! What can I help you with?” 

Ingrid sighed. “It’s Felix. He’s--he’s not taking things well, obviously, and I know he’ll need time to function again. But he hasn’t spoken to me in days, or Sylvain.” Her eyes held a heaviness, though her voice remained steady. “He’s never been one to hide his feelings either. When Glenn died, Felix hid in his room for a week, but at least when I came over he would sit with me, and--”

She stopped to take a deep breath and blink a few times. “Now, he at least eats - I’ve been leaving plates of food outside his door while he’s training - but when we try to talk to him, he won’t even look at us.”

Annette stared at the ground, still holding the brush. The few times she had glimpsed Felix, he’d been even more sullen than usual, a glowering mask of bitterness etched on his face, moving silently as if a ghost himself. 

“I’m not sure what I could do,” she began. 

“I don’t know either, to be honest.” Ingrid’s already half-hearted smile faded further. “But I know he listens to you. Maybe he needs someone with less of our tangled history. If you could just check on him and see...I just need to know that he’s okay.” 

Annette swallowed. What could she even say to him? Their last meaningful interaction had been that flub of a kiss; he’d hardly want to recall that. Goddess, what silly problems she’d dwelled on back then!

But if it was as bad as Ingrid said, she owed it to her friends to try.

Annette nodded. “Alright, I can do it.”

Ingrid exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Annette. I truly can’t thank you enough. He’s in his room now, if you don’t mind heading there with me.”

“Now?” Annette’s eyes doubled in width and her heart rate tripled. She couldn’t go like this, she needed time to plan what to say, and she smelled like dirty kitchen sponge!

“Please?” Ingrid begged. “You only have to go in and make sure he’s still alive in there. I can’t take another day of the silent treatment.”

“Okay, just, um, let me put all this away and wash up.”

Three minutes later they were on the upper floor of the Garreg Mach dormitories, slow footsteps carrying them toward the farthest end. The last stripes of sunlight filtered in through the windows, and she heard the calm hoot of an owl setting off for the hunt. Most soldiers would be resting for the night at this point. 

Outside Felix’s door, Sylvain slumped against the wall, his head in his hands. He stood when they approached. 

“Annette, thank the Goddess,” he extolled in a low voice. “You’re our only hope.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Come on, Sylvain. Let’s not hover.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him back the way they’d come. Over her shoulder she nodded in the direction of the very closed door where Annette stood. “Good luck.”

Annette turned to the door with some trepidation, though she didn’t know why she made it such a big deal. _He’s just sad, you can go in there and cheer him up._

She rapped her knuckles on the wood twice. If only she’d brought some of Mercie’s cookies...

“Sylvain, I thought I told you to leave me the fuck _alone_.”

“Felix?” Annette tried.

Silence.

She let out a shaky breath and glanced at the handle as if it would bite her. She could do this. 

Annette opened the door and poked her head in just far enough to see Felix crouched on the floor, cradling his knees to his chest with his back against the side of the bed. His hair hung limply down his neck and blocked the sides of his face from view. 

He lifted his head to peer at her with red eyes. “Annette?”

She strained to smile. “H-hi.” 

He hadn’t cursed at her or kicked her out, so she stepped all the way through and closed the door softly behind her. A stump of a candle burned on Felix’s desk next to a bowl with the dregs of what looked like stew. The light tossed long shadows over his unmade bed and half-open wardrobe. He wore an old sleeping shirt and pants with frayed seams. Somehow his pale face appeared even more wan in the dark, aside from his puffy eyes. 

She’d never seen him this raw; the sight clenched a fist around her heart. 

He didn’t move except to drop his head completely into his arms. “What are you doing here,” came a muffled half question.

“Oh, um, well, I just...” _Think,_ Annette. “I never got to show you the sword song, and I thought I could, um, share it with you. But if it’s not a good time I can leave if you want, I’m sorry for bothering you, it’s just that I know you wanted to hear it--”

The word vomit was not stopping, _why wasn’t it stopping?_ She could feel the blood rushing to heat her cheeks. He was in this state and all she could do was blabber, for crying out loud.

“Fine.”

Annette stopped short. Felix had raised his head, addressing the wardrobe across from him. “You can sing it, I guess. Since you’re here.”

“Oh.” Annette blushed again. “Alright.”

She crept forward a few steps to the center of the room. “The choreography isn’t quite done, so you’ll have to bear with me. Ahem.” She took a short, deliberate breath and sang: “A perfect line of sharpened steel, bending like a river in the breeze...”

Annette extended her arm forward, pulling an imaginary piece of string.

“A flattened silver mirror’s edge, reflecting the last light you’ll ever see…”

She flipped the same hand around and lowered it dramatically in front of her face.

“A cold and deadly flame,” she clasped her hands together in front of her chest, “the dance will stir your heart until you bleed....

“Swish and slash!” Annette flung her arm forward, miming swordplay, her feet split apart with her weight bouncing off each one in turn. “Lunge and swing and dash--Ah!”

She caught the leg of the bed with one foot on her last step, tumbling onto the floor in a heap. In the process, Felix’s swords, which had leaned against the wall in their scabbards, clattered to the floor behind her. 

“Oh my goodness!” Annette crawled over and picked up the heaviest one, only to slip and drop it again. “Argh! I’m sorry! I’ll put them back, just a minute!”

“Leave them, it’s fine,” Felix said from behind her.

“No, I’ve made a mess, I can fix this.”

On her knees, she grabbed a smaller one this time, one of the two matching silver swords in blue and brown casings, and lifted it gingerly to lean against the junction of the wall and the bed. Which next, she pondered…probably the other silver one, and then there was his curved wo dao, the killing edge, two double edged steel swords...saints, how many swords does a person need?

She heard Felix sigh. “Annette, stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”

The silver sword fell with a clang atop the rest of the pile, narrowly missing Annette’s thumb. “Yikes, okay! Okay.”

She rolled over onto her butt around the corner of the bed and swiveled to face Felix. He flicked his eyes in her direction, and she thought she saw the twitch of his mouth under his hand.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Annette said again. “And now I ruined the song!”

“I liked it. Wasn’t bad, for someone who can barely hold a sword.”

“Shut up!” She leaned forward and punched him in the arm, expecting retaliation. But none came; he remained curled up in an impenetrable ball. 

“Annette,” he said after a long pause. “Why are you really here?”

She looked at him, drained of all energy, fragile in the way where a wrong word could detonate the hidden well of emotions he had buried. She so badly wanted to wrap her arms around him, but physical contact seemed like the last thing Felix wanted.

“I...I was worried about you. I know what it’s like to lose--well, not in the same way, but I mean, I just...I’m sorry.”

He didn’t move. Annette sighed and turned away, dropping her voice. “Ingrid and Sylvain are worried, too, you know.”

Felix scoffed. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“Felix, they’re your friends. They’re just looking out for you.”

“They’re smothering me.” He shifted to stretch one leg in front of him, his arms still wrapped around the other knee. “They should know there are more important things to do, now that the boar has his head out of his ass.”

Annette frowned but chose not to comment on Dimitri. She kept her eyes on Felix and her patience intact. He was talking now; talking was good, right?

He sighed bitterly. “My old man died as he lived, in service to the future king. But now he’s dead, and we have to move on with the fight.”

She hesitated, at a loss. “I’m sure he loved you…”

“Loved me,” Felix spat. “He would have loved me more had I been the one to die in _noble service_.”

“Felix!”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice cracked. “It doesn’t matter…”

Tears floated at Annette’s eyes, and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. The silence between them was stifling. She knew it was a mistake to come here, she’d just bow out now and leave him to his feelings in peace, hoping he’d still speak to her come the morning. 

“I’m sorry, you’re upset. I’ll...I’ll go.” She rose to her knees.

A hand latched onto her wrist. “Wait.”

She froze. Felix still wasn’t looking at her, boring more holes into the wardrobe instead, but his face was tinged with pink. Meanwhile, his right hand maintained its death grip.

He lowered his head, his voice hardly a whisper. “Please, will you sing some more?”

Annette breathed deeply. Had she heard him right? 

“Alright.”

She scooted closer until she was sitting beside him, their shoulders a hair’s breadth apart. The words of a lullaby drifted into her mind, one her mother sang to her as a child and that Annette had often repeated to herself as the war came to a head. It was an old Faerghan tune; she wondered if Felix would know it. 

Annette began to sing, softly. She focused on the verses, about a stable hand gently tucking her horses into their stalls, birds enfolding their wings over their young, the moon and stars blanketing the fields in winter light. Somehow Felix’s head found its way to her shoulder, and she pulled him in so he could completely bury his face. On impulse, she removed her gloves and stroked his hair in long, flowing movements, while he sobbed silently against her. 

She tried very hard to ignore how fast her heart was beating and how obvious it must be to him.

Annette ran out of verses but kept humming the melody anyway. It was nice, she thought, to be able to do this for him. He was always stretched taut, full of anger; she liked being the one to lure it out of him with each thread of her fingers through his hair. 

(It was really soft and smooth, honestly she could keep doing this forever…)

“I don’t care what your father may have thought,” she said. “He deserved to live, just like you do. Just like you will.” She rubbed small circles along his upper back. “Like you said, you can handle anything. And besides, you have, like, fifty swords.”

Felix blew out a breath through his nose, a quiet half-laugh. He’d stopped crying but his head still rested on her. 

“I thought about your songs sometimes,” he mumbled into her capelet. “Over the years, while everything was happening. They…helped me sleep.”

Annette smiled, a twinge of heat returning to her face. He’d remembered those stupid things, all that time? Then again, he _had_ come to her in the greenhouse once they’d reunited. “Oh, Felix. I can sing you to sleep, if you like.”

She felt him nod. “Mmm.”

“Here, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Annette swung her legs around and knelt, lifting Felix under the arms and hoisting both of them to their feet with only minimal wobbling. Goddess, he must be exhausted if he was letting her haul him around like this.

He crawled into the bed and under the blankets with eyes half-closed. Annette brushed his hair away from his forehead and kissed him there before she could think better about it. He sunk into the pillow, and before a minute had passed his breaths carried the long slow rhythm of impending slumber. 

The candle on his desk dwindled into a wisp of smoke. He was already sleeping, probably. Maybe she should just sneak away now. She stood--

“Annette,” came a soft voice, heavy with sleep. “Stay with me.”

“Wh-what?” Okay, she had to have misheard him this time. There was no way he was asking her to crawl in there with him. Right? 

Thank Seiros it was dark and he couldn’t see her flush again. And now her chest flutters had returned, oh joy. 

Well, maybe she could just lie on the bed with him, until he was really asleep. At this rate it wouldn’t take long.

“Um, sure.” She sat on the edge and slipped off her shoes, fully prepared to lie as still as a statue on top of the covers…

Felix seized her by the arm and dragged the blanket over her. 

“Oof!” Annette bounced as she landed. Her chest thundered like a cavalry battalion. 

Here she was, in Felix’s bed, with Felix’s arm around her stomach and his breath dusting her cheek. She turned her face into the pillow and smiled in spite of herself. It smelled like Felix.

It wasn’t long before the calm blanket of sleep claimed them both.

~

Mercedes did not ask her why she was later than usual to breakfast the next morning, nor did she say anything afterward in the courtyard in response to Ingrid’s bear hug, nor any peep at Sylvain swinging Annette around like a ragdoll and kissing her on the cheek. 

Catching her breath, Annette greeted them both with a baffled expression, but didn’t mention anything about Felix. Luckily, neither Ingrid nor Sylvain prodded her for details, which she found very suspicious. 

Not as suspicious as Mercie’s lack of comment on everything, however.

“I’m just glad to see our friends so happy,” she said. “We need all of the happiness we can get in times like these, don’t we, Annie?”

“Uh huh,” said Annette, trying to play it off. “You don’t think that was weird though? Ingrid’s not usually so touchy-feely this early in the morning, and Sylvain, well he’s Sylvain, but still.”

Mercie had a glint in her eye that was not fooling Annette. “Should I think it’s weird?”

“Um, no, of course not.” 

Annette wasn’t ready to tell her about last night, it seemed too private to share such a vulnerable moment. And it wasn’t really hers to tell. 

Entering the greenhouse that afternoon, Annette stumbled upon Dedue pruning the pea plants. She was relieved to see him - his presence always calmed her, and having someone else there while she gardened lessened the chances for another Greenhouse Incident.

“Hello, Annette,” he said warmly. “I have begun with today’s vegetables, if you would like to help me collect the ones that are ready.”

She grinned. “Of course!”

They settled into a companionable silence - well, Dedue at least, Annette hummed - filling baskets with peas, carrots, turnips, red cabbage, and bok choy. Annette could admit to some small skill with plants, but the gardens had never fared better since Dedue’s return to their ranks. 

He turned to her as Annette set down her last basket and picked up the watering can to start on the flowers. 

“Annette, may I say something?”

“Huh?” She pivoted to face him, still holding the watering can, which promptly poured water all over her feet. “Ah! Oh no!” 

Dedue handed her the cloth he’d been kneeling on. “Please, don’t worry. It is not something bad.”

“I’m not worried, just clumsy as usual. Oh dear,” she muttered, padding the cloth over the rapidly spreading puddle. “What is it?”

“I noticed his Highness in the dining hall this morning, eating breakfast with Felix.”

Annette’s eyebrows lifted in shock. Felix had already left the room when she’d awoken (after a mild moment of confusion at where she was) and she assumed he would be training like usual. It was one thing for Felix to be seen in company since Gronder Field, but _Dimitri_ \- she hadn’t seen him in the dining hall for months. 

“They did not seem to share much conversation. I believe Felix did not say more than one word to anyone, but his friends were happy to see him.”

“Oh.” This would explain some of Ingrid’s and Sylvain’s reactions.

“I am aware that you spoke to Felix yesterday,” Dedue continued.

She blushed, nearly spilling the water all over again. _How did everyone know about this?_

“Felix means a great deal to his Highness, though he does not always know how to show it.” Dedue’s face crinkled in a soft smile. “I do not know what is between the two of you, but I believe you are a good influence on him, even more so than the rest of us. Your spirit is kind and cheerful. These things are not unimportant.”

Annette just stood there, her mouth hanging open. 

“It is my wish to see his Highness smile again, to ease what little of his burdens I can.” Dedue tucked the last of the pea pods into the basket beside him. “I will try to follow your example in the hopes that it will prove fruitful.”

“Dedue…” She was blushing for totally different reasons now. “Wow, that’s...really kind of you to say. But you don’t have to worry about that. You’re the most warm-hearted person I know!”

He ducked his head. “I still have much to learn.”

Annette moved through the rest of her day on autopilot, but Dedue’s words still rang in her head. It’s not like she was trying to be particularly chipper, that’s just how she approached things. If she let the weight of her troubles bring her down every day, nothing would ever get done, after all. 

She thought of Felix, of his head against her shoulder, his sleeping form at her back. Annette doubted he’d invite her for tea and sleepovers any time soon - the thought made her snort - but if she could be there for him on occasion, well...maybe that would be enough.

~

With all of the happenings following the battle at Gronder, she’d forgotten how quickly Harpstring Moon had come upon them, but a few short days flew by and Annette was suddenly another year older. 

Mercedes and Lysithea baked her a cake to celebrate - chocolate ganache coating the most delicious Gloucester sponge she’d ever tasted, Annette had no idea where they managed to get the ingredients - and she happily stuffed her face with them on the benches outside the gazebo. 

She may have overestimated her stomach halfway through her fourth piece, however, so with the promise of meeting the two of them in half an hour for a trip into town, Annette shuffled off to her room to rest, balancing the plate of leftover cake on two hands. 

No sooner had she collapsed face down on her bed than a knock interrupted her. 

Annette rolled off and ambled to the door, opening it with some surprise. Felix stood there, one hand holding a small package. 

“Felix?” She rubbed one eye. 

“Hi,” he said. 

Felix looked much better than the last time she saw him. He’d bathed and tied up his hair in its usual ponytail, and his clothes and armor had been wiped clean of the dirt and blood from the week before. Sunlight gleamed off the two swords at his hip. 

“Um. This is for you.” He stuck his hand out and shoved the package into her arms. Annette just stared at it. “It is your birthday, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Annette trailed off. She could hear him fidgeting, but she couldn’t stop gazing at what he’d handed her. The brown paper wrappings fell open, revealing a notebook with leather binding. Etched ornamentations decorated the spine and border, and the front inside illustration revealed a thinly petaled golden flower. The rest of the pages were blank aside from the same ornamentation in the corners. 

It was beautiful, more beautiful than any of the notebooks she’d been eyeing at the stores in town. 

She glanced up at him, and he quickly averted his gaze. “For your songs,” he said, cheeks tinted pink.

“Felix, are you serious?” She knew he could be kind when he wanted, but she never expected him to be _thoughtful_. Where the hell had this come from? “But...I didn’t get you anything for your birthday! How am I supposed to accept this?”

He shrugged. “It’s a book, just take it.” 

“I’ll make it up to you! What about a steak dinner? Or meat pie?”

“ _Annette_.” He sighed in exasperation. “I’m trying to thank you, not bribe you.”

She shoved the book back at Felix and shook her head vehemently. “I absolutely cannot take this, it is too beautiful and—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Felix brushed past Annette into the room, crossed it in three strides, and slapped the notebook down on her desk next to the precariously perched plate of cake.

“There,” he said. “It’s yours now. Do whatever you like, but I’m not taking it back.”

“Felix!” 

Annette half-stomped in after him, only pretending to be mad. But really, no one had ever given her anything this nice, least of all Felix, who Annette thought barely tolerated her after the weirdness of all the _Incidents_ of the past few months (the other night was obviously a fluke, Felix was grieving and not in his normal state of mind). How was she supposed to handle this? 

Not only was it the most gorgeous gift she’d ever received, but it carried the implication that Felix thought about her songs (only the Goddess knew why) and considered them memorable and worthy enough to write down! What was he trying to pull? Maybe he meant to use them as blackmail, to have her unwittingly create written evidence of her silly lyrics to parade around all of Fódlan and expose her to endless humiliation.

“Ugh,” Annette whined. “Now I’m in your gift debt!”

“My what?”

“Gift debt! You know, when someone gets you a nice thing and then you need to get them something good in return—”

“That is literally the dumbest thing I have ever heard,” Felix scoffed. “Saints, I’m regretting this already.”

Annette was about to retort, until she saw one side of his mouth curved up, threatening to let loose a hidden laugh. 

(She wanted to kiss that stupid smile right off his face.)

“Fine,” she said, her voice returning to a reasonable volume. “I mean...thanks.”

She felt the persistent blush creep up her face. Felix idled on the shabby blue carpeting that Annette had given up trying to revive, his arms crossed and eyes gazing aimlessly at the floor. He had such long eyelashes, had she not noticed that until now?

She suddenly didn’t want him to leave. 

“Um, do you want some cake?” She gestured at the chocolate-covered monstrosity on the desk.

Felix glanced at it. “No, thanks. I don’t eat sweets.”

“Oh, right,” Annette said. “More for me, I guess.” _Okay, that didn’t work. Think, think!_

She could see the indecision flickering in his face, in the tension of his jaw and set of his shoulders. Another second and he’d walk away, back out the still open door to resume their routine of...whatever this was.

Annette opened her mouth to sing, to say something, _anything_ , but Felix cut her off, voice so low it neared a whisper.

“About the other night…”

Her heart sank. Oh, no. Here it was. He was going to tell her it meant nothing, that she shouldn’t misunderstand his intentions, to forget it ever happened. Well, Annette would meet him there before the words left his mouth.

“Please don’t worry about it,” she said. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, I’m sure you just wanted to be left alone.”

He turned his head sharply and met her eyes, his own wide and bewildered. “What? No, that’s not...that’s not what I…”

“Then…” she began.

Felix ran a hand through the top layers of his hair and mumbled something under his breath. The color was back in his cheeks full force.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said finally. Annette was two feet away but she had to strain to hear. “I meant it when I said I’m like your captive.”

Her mind flashed back to that day in the greenhouse. Hearing him say it the first time had been flattering, though disarming, but the sound of his voice saying it now was doing things to her she didn’t expect. Heat rushed to her face, and she had to look away. 

“Felix, if you, um, need me to sing for you or anything, you know where to find me.” Goddess, was it sweltering in here or was it just Annette?

His hand was still cradling his forehead. “That’s not it. I mean, I would like that, but…” Felix dragged the hand down his face and made a noise of distress. “I can’t think straight with all of this. Forget it. I need to go.”

“Wait!” Annette cried. No, no, this is not how she wanted it to go! 

He stepped toward the door, and she lunged and grabbed his arm, ignoring the rushing in her ears. She was propelled by pure adrenaline, all conscious thought having left her with her breath since he’d said the word _captive_.

_I’m your captive._

“I don’t want to forget!” She clutched the cloth of his billowing sleeve in one fist. “Gah! Let’s start over.”

Felix bristled but didn’t pull away. “I’m not saying it again.”

“No, just...come here!”

What happened next, Annette wouldn't be able to properly explain to Mercedes (much less herself). Because what happened was she turned him around by his sleeve and yanked him down by his pauldron strap to crush their lips together with more passion than she knew she had in her.

He gasped into her mouth, frozen for a moment before responding with equal enthusiasm, snaking an arm around her and tangling his fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck. Annette’s whole body was humming, and she thought her heart might fly right out of her chest. 

They broke apart, panting.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have asked, I—”

“It’s okay,” Felix murmured against the top of her head. The sound sent a pleasant frisson down her spine. He pulled away enough to see her face. “Do you want to…?”

“Yes.” Goddess, he looked beautiful, all flushed and breathless. She let her gaze roam all over his face, his amber eyes, his lips…

With his free hand, Felix tilted her head up and kissed her again, more slowly this time. Eyes closing, she rose up on her tiptoes to make it easier, her back arched and her hands entwining around his neck. His lips, warm and soft and tentative, explored hers with self-conscious curiosity. But Annette had less patience; she sucked on his bottom lip and clacked her teeth against his. When he teased his tongue into her mouth, she actually moaned. 

She’d have to process the embarrassment later, right now she felt entirely too warm in her current outfit, pressed close to him as she was. Maybe if she just took off her fur capelet…

Felix had moved on to her neck and was kissing just below her jawline. Annette’s breaths came in shallow gasps with each one. He leaned forward and wrapped his arm around her lower back, and she got a whiff of the leather and wood and steel and sweat that combined to make his own heady Felix smell. Her head was composed solely of the whoosh of her racing blood, rushing to her face, her chest, lower and lower to where she could feel her most sensitive areas reacting to his touch.

Every breath in her ear made her shudder, every brush of his lips on her skin set it on fire. She knew if he wasn’t holding her up so securely, she would have melted to the floor. In a moment of delirium, Annette giggled - _giggled!_ \- and a small, thankfully less present part of her died of mortification.

“Annie?” a high voice that was definitely not Felix’s called out. “Are you almost ready to go? Lysithea won’t be joining us anymore, so I thought we could get an earlier start.”

Mercedes poked her head in the doorway just as Annette and Felix sprang apart, Annette falling backward onto her bed with a _whomp_.

“Oh my, I’m sorry!” said Mercedes. A soft blush rose to her cheeks, though it had nothing on Felix’s. 

He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll go. Bye.” He said this last bit to Annette’s feet and bolted out the door like a startled cat.

Annette could only cover her face with her hands. “Mercieeeeee _._ ”

“Your door was open, I didn’t realize I was interrupting anything,” Mercedes explained. Annette refused to look at her and see the obvious knowing smile on her face. But after the initial tension had dissipated, a sudden fit of giggles overcame her and she moved her hands to her mouth. 

In her peripheral vision, Mercedes was, in fact, smiling. “I can go fetch him back if you want. We can postpone our outing.”

“No!” Annette nearly shouted. “No, that is _not_ necessary, thank you.” She caught her breath after a few moments. “Also, please do not tell anyone about this, not a single soul, Mercie. Not Ashe, not Ingrid, _definitely_ not Sylvain.”

Like the big sister she was, Mercedes came and sat next to Annette on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t. Are you at least happy about this development?”

Annette couldn’t help the goofy grin that stretched across her face. “I don’t know what development you could possibly mean, but alright, I’m happy.” She sat up straighter. “Oh, Mercie! You have to see what he bought for me, you’re not gonna believe it!”

~

The blank parchment stared up at her, its utter stillness like a challenge. Annette held the owl feather quill between two fingers while its fluffy top tickled her chin. It was a gift from Byleth - she’d never understood their propensity for gift-giving, how they always seemed to know exactly what someone wanted while looking as if they’d simply plucked it off the ground somewhere. Annette smiled, remembering her other recent gift and the adorable blush on Felix’s face that had accompanied it.

(Then of course she remembered the circumstances immediately following the gift, and warmth flooded her cheeks.)

She sighed and glanced down at the as-yet-unwritten letter. She’d been writing them since her arrival at Garreg Mach to fight in the war, though none had left the desk drawer in front of her. It reminded her horribly of the stack of letters her father had bestowed on her unceremoniously, years’ worth of guilt and love and sorrow that he’d hoarded from her and her mother, which now lived in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe.

She frowned at the parallels in their habits but felt a puff of pride that at least her reticence to send her letters actually had a selfless purpose. With her mother ensconced at the home of Baron Dominic her uncle, deep in imperial occupied territory, any correspondence provoked too great a risk, both to her mother’s safety and to the war efforts of the Kingdom resistance army. 

If they could push through and retake Fhirdiad - and the slow-blooming hope within her believed that they would - then she would send them all, her own and her father’s. 

Annette missed her mother terribly. She missed sharing the little details she knew her mother would want to know - how her magic was developing, all the friendships she’d maintained, the progress they’d made (or hadn’t made) in rebuilding the monastery, the antics of a pair of stray cats that lived in the little alleyway beside Annette’s room, the sweets she’d buy in town now that the merchants could travel more freely after years of turmoil, the fact that Mercie was now dating Sylvain of all people and could become the next Margravine Gautier if she wasn’t careful...

She’d leave out the bits about seeing her classmates lying dead in the grass and flames. 

Instead, she wanted to tell her mother about Felix, how he’d insist on hearing her songs, how despite all the chaos surrounding them all, somehow her feelings for him had sprouted like stubborn seeds in an abandoned flower bed. But just the thought of putting them down in words, in tangible ink that she couldn’t hide from, made her insides squirm. 

Her mother would get a kick out of the song stories, though - she used to tease Annette every day about the outrageous lyrics that would come out of her mouth as a child, helping Annette find rhymes for the silliest of concepts. 

The memory brought out the strongest nostalgia she’d felt in a while, her heart full to bursting and her eyes stinging with bittersweet longing, and she found the words flowing from her hands more easily than expected. She’d hidden bits and pieces of encounters with Felix in earlier letters, but this time she spelled out clearly (alright, maybe not in excruciating detail, but still) the things that had happened and how she felt. How she’d never experienced anything like this and it scared her, how her mother’s own determination in the face of long odds became an inspiration to Annette in the smallest of situations. 

She was careful to mention only a little of her father; she didn’t want her mother to know just how strained things were between them. Only that she’d reminded him of how they missed him, and that she’d planted the idea of him returning to their home after the war, if there was an after. 

Annette signed and sealed the letter, dabbing a bit of her new perfume on the page - it was a scent her mother would love, summery and sweet like wildflowers. Then she tucked it underneath the ribbon cinched around her previous letters, leaving the whole stack on her desk. She would take it with her to Fhirdiad and send them directly from there.

Reluctantly, she pulled the other, heavier stack from her wardrobe and set it next to her own. 

~

The last time they’d traveled north, nothing but a rag-tag group of knights and former students clinging to sheer desperation and the hope that Kingdom resistance boasted larger numbers than reports claimed, they’d crossed a land scarred by a heavy winter and the scorched earth tactics of the Empire’s advance. This time it was much the same, but as spring turned into summer the vegetation had crowded through, ignoring the conflicts of humanity and asserting their own survival. 

The Kingdom of Faerghus was too wide for the Empire to maintain strict control over all territories, so they were able to slip along the eastern side and march directly to the capital without confrontation. But Cornelia knew they were coming and had fortified accordingly.

Annette had been living with her uncle during Cornelia’s coup and Dimitri’s arrest and false execution, but she’d heard about the rioting in the streets. Some loyalists fled the city, including several of Annette’s friends and teachers from the School of Sorcery, but most ordinary folk stayed put as it was easier to lay low and try to survive. The knights and soldiers that fought back were slaughtered.

In contrast, as they entered the city this time the citizens were quiet, hidden away. The streets that Annette once called home were guarded by imperial troops and dark mages under Cornelia’s command. And worse still, gigantic Titanus machines patrolled the pathways that led to where she lay in wait. 

They split into their groups according to plan. Annette craned her neck trying to spot Felix among the throng of people clamoring into formation, but he was on the opposite side, too far for a word, or a kiss, or even just a nod of encouragement. 

Annette swallowed her regret before it could surface in her mind.

Following the professor’s strategy, Annette, Mercedes, and Dedue flanked one of the metallic behemoths on the right, allowing Ashe to ride ahead and silence one of the magic traps that Cornelia had installed to waylay them. This granted safer passage to Byleth and Dimitri and the main part of their forces as they headed straight for Cornelia. 

Felix was with them, she knew. She had to keep reminding herself of this when she caught flashes of dark-haired swordsmen around every corner. _It can’t be him, he’s fine, he’s alive._

It was enough struggle to keep an eye on Mercedes and Dedue nearby. Enough to watch her city crumble away in front of her. Rivulets of blood trickled between the stones at Annette’s feet, and the air thrummed with magical electricity. Each titanic blast at the buildings around her chipped away at her heart, the destruction cascading upon itself like ice melting into a river rampage, but this only spurred her on. 

She wouldn’t let them get away with this. 

When it was all over, they congregated on the castle steps, battle-worn but victorious. Crowds of people cheered as Byleth brought Dimitri out by the hand to look over his people as their king, the first time many had seen him since his escape many years ago. Though his long hair and eyepatch hid most of his face, Annette could see how young and afraid he truly was, his mouth a thin line of determination, his hand gripping Byleth’s throughout. 

Her father stood behind them, stoic and proud. She knew how much this must mean to him and felt a pang of resentment deep in her stomach. Luckily the buoyant mood of the crowd lifted her past it. 

She searched across the stone steps for her friends, her heart leaping with relief at the sight of each one. There were Ashe and Ingrid, gazing upward in reverence (and also holding hands?), Dedue in his bloody and dented armor looking even more worshipful if possible, Sylvain and Mercie a little ways behind them, locked in a deep kiss…

And there was Felix, not fifty feet away. He, too, stared up at his Highness, face swirling with so many emotions they rendered his overall expression inscrutable. Annette wanted to run up and bury her face in his neck and breathe him in, but there were too many people in the way and it was too public. 

They hadn’t had a moment alone since her birthday. Several times during their training or weekly tasks, Annette could have sworn he’d be approaching, only for him to veer off in another direction at the last second. She let it slide, afraid that pushing too hard would drive him away (despite Mercedes’s suggestion that she simply go to his room again and kiss him, since that seemed to work so well the first time).

And now, Annette had _had_ it. She wasn’t going to wait around anymore. She would march up to him and tell him exactly how she felt, and then….well, Annette hadn’t thought that far ahead, but at least it would be off her chest. 

(Goddess, even Sylvain had got his life together enough to be with Mercedes! What was Felix’s problem?)

But seeing him there, alive and whole and practically smiling, Annette couldn’t stay mad for long. They’d made it this far, hadn’t they?

~

Their company spent that night in the city. Restless knights on their victory high ripped down the imperial banners that had befouled the castle ramparts, and gladly took up residence in the recently vacated barracks. The ranking officers of the former Blue Lions house would each have space in the castle itself.

Annette had only visited as a child, once to celebrate the young prince’s birthday and once to fetch her father home when her mother was fighting illness. Her room in the guest quarters was the most luxurious she’d ever seen - a four poster bed with curtains in Faerghus blue, her own mini balcony overlooking the castle stables - but she barely made use of it. 

Instead, she deposited her filthy gloves and capelet, quickly shifted into a spare clean dress (her sweaty tights would have to do for now), and scrubbed her hands and face of blood and dirt. Once she was as fresh as possible without a full bath, she wandered the drafty halls to where she hoped Felix would be staying, in the rooms reserved for house Fraldarius. She had a vague idea where they were from her father’s descriptions.

Three wrong staircases and one broken vase later, Annette gave in and asked a passing soldier for directions. They led her to a suite of rooms one wing over from that of the royal family, waving away her apologies. 

Once again, Annette found herself standing outside Felix’s door, her heart in her throat. She took several deep breaths. _Annette Fantine Dominic, you are a grown woman. You can do this._

She knocked, and then knocked again since the first round had barely made any noise against the heavy wood. She didn’t know how big the rooms were; could he even hear her? Was he even in there?

Annette lifted her hand to knock a third time when the door swung inward. 

“What?” said Felix, annoyed. “I heard you the first time--Annette?”

She smiled, though her insides were already wobbling. Too late to back out now. “Uh, hi. May I come in?”

He nodded, not meeting her gaze. “Mm.”

Annette stepped through onto a lush fur pelt - was that bearskin? - and took in the surroundings with wide eyes. The room in front of her was easily twice the size of her own, consisting of a central fireplace (complete with crackling fire), two armchairs and a sprawling couch, and shelves of books and knick knacks lining the walls. A few of Felix’s swords were lined up in neat rows in one corner - he’d already cleaned them, it appeared - and his cape was draped over the back of the chair nearest them. Felix had taken the time to remove his outermost layers, down to a long sleeved sweater, pants, and boots. The rest of his dirty outfit lay in a heap beside the fire.

On either side of the fireplace, doors led to the other parts of the suite: one must be a study - she could see the edge of a broad wooden desk - and the other, the bedroom, where a clawfoot bathtub nestled next to a second fireplace, across from what had to be the bed, though she could only make out one carved bedpost. 

It was a far cry from their dorm rooms at the Academy. 

“Oh, wow!” she said. “This is incredible.”

Aside from the corner with Felix’s weapons and clothes, the room was untouched. She wandered over to the bookshelves and peered at the titles: a lot of histories, political treatises, tracts on Faerghus agriculture and economics, one or two poetic sagas depicting the heroics of an earlier age. So much knowledge at her fingertips…

“So these are the Duke’s quarters?” she asked. She poked at a miniature brass sword that bookended one of the shelves.

She could hear Felix huff without looking at him. “Don’t remind me.”

Of course, it would bring up memories of his father. Annette bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t reply. She turned back to the shelf and dragged a finger through the dust along its edge. “Ew, it could use some cleaning though. Is there a dust cloth around here?”

“Annette, you can’t possibly have come here to clean my room. Let it rest.”

“Okay, fine.”

Annette supposed she couldn’t put it off any longer. She looked at Felix, who was holding his leather pauldron and placing it carefully next to his sword belt on the armchair in front of him. Fighting the urge to fidget with something, she moved to the couch and traced her hand along its carved trim. 

She felt Felix’s eyes on her. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Why have you come here?” 

Her mind flitted again to that night in his room. He always did this, always put the other person in the spotlight, forcing her to confront him head on instead of maneuvering the conversation at a nice, easy pace. She was supposed to be the one taking initiative here! 

Her pulse kicked into overdrive, her easily-blushing face once again throwing her under the proverbial horse cart. “Um. Just give me a minute, sorry.” Didn’t he know big feelings take time to express? No, nevermind, Felix never used clear words to express anything if he could avoid it. 

She pressed her cold hands to her cheeks and ran them through her hair. “So.” She exhaled. “I have something to say. I know you’ve been avoiding me since my birthday.”

He tsked, still fiddling with his armor. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have!” She leveled him with her most irritated glare, which did nothing as he wasn’t meeting her eyes. “I don’t understand. You keep saying you’re my captive of all things, you _kiss_ me,” she had to look away so her face wouldn’t combust, “but then you barely talk to me for weeks. You just stalk me like some kind of weirdo.” 

“I do nothing of the kind,” he said, his tone biting. “If you mean on the battlefield, it’s because I can’t let you out of my sight lest you injure yourself like a fool again.”

Annette’s eyes widened. So it had been Felix that she’d seen on the streets today. “Well...why haven’t you talked to me then?” 

“I’ve been busy,” he mumbled, frowning. One of his buckles snapped. 

Annette balled her hands into fists. “That’s crap and you know it.” 

There was a pause, silent except for the fireplace, which gave a loud crack as one of the logs slipped. Its heat only increased the temperature of her traitorous face.

 _Goddess give me strength._ “I don’t want to dance around this anymore. I really care about you, and I...I want to be with you.”

“I know,” Felix said, gazing squarely at the floor. 

Annette’s heart dropped into her stomach. “You _know?_ ” she squeaked.

He lifted a shoulder, though his nonchalance was less effective thanks to his own blush. Good, let him be nervous about this, too, the jerk. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Felix!” Her hands flew to her face. She’d be less offended if it weren’t true. “Does this mean you don’t feel the same? Because if so, I’d rather know outright than be led to believe otherwise.”

Annette turned away to hide the tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. This could not be happening, _this could not be happening_.

Felix swore under his breath. He dropped the pauldron and took two hesitant steps towards her. They were facing each other head on now, hackles raised in some kind of duel over who could humiliate Annette faster (she was hard to beat in this category). 

“Of course I feel the same.” He sounded both cautious and pained, gripping his arm at the elbow. “If you think I go around kissing every girl in Fódlan, you don’t know me at all.” 

Somehow this hurt more than him pointing out her emotional transparency. “Well then stop running away!” she cried. “You’re holding back for no reason, and it’s killing me!”

The echo of his stupid words clamored in her head: _of course I feel the same._ She wanted to punch him and then rip his clothes off. This was not helping her stay calm. 

Annoyance flickered briefly into anger in his eyes, but he kept his voice even. She wished he would just yell at her for once. “We’re at war. The battlefield is no place for romance. If I let myself get distracted and become reckless, people could die.”

 _You could use a good distraction_ , she wanted to say. “You’re wrong, Felix. There’s no reason to wait around. Don’t you understand that I can be there to support you, when things get overwhelming? That we can _help each other?_ You don’t have to hoard all your emotions and hope they’ll go away when you’re not looking.”

“I don’t need help managing my feelings, I’m not a child--”

“Then act like it!” Annette threw up her arms. “We could die tomorrow, and I for one want to enjoy my life for however long I have left. If you want to be miserable, you’re on your own.”

He held her gaze. “Fine.”

“Fine!”

Another pause. They kept eye contact for a few seconds longer. Felix broke first. 

“Damn it.” He sighed in frustration, taking another step forward. “Alright, I admit it. You...I...you mean a lot to me.” A flush crept up his face, contrasting adorably with his downturned mouth, and he was back to staring somewhere behind her. “I want you to sing for me every day for the rest of my life. There, I’ve said it. Are you happy now?”

Annette’s brain chose that moment to short-circuit. She heard the words; they entered her head, but no processes existed beyond that. Her eyes glazed over, focused on the firelight making his face glow, and her heart beat a frantic _Fe-lix Fe-lix_ like it was chanting his name. 

“Annette?” His voice wobbled a bit.

She blinked a few times and looked up at him. “Do you really mean that?”

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” Felix crossed his arms and smiled. He actually _smiled_. “You worry too much.”

He was close enough to touch, and Annette jabbed a threatening finger into his chest. “Felix Hugo Fraldarius, you’d better not be making fun of me right now!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The smile hadn’t vanished yet, a small little crescent of a grin that had no right to look so beautiful. “Who told you my middle name?

“Sylvain,” she replied, staring at his mouth.

Felix rolled his eyes into an expression of annoyed fondness. “That idiot.”

 _Said the pot to the kettle_ , she thought with a surge of affection. Seiros above, she was giddy. She could cook a feast for the entire army right now, or plant a whole forest of trees, or scrub the entirety of the royal castle with a toothbrush. 

He leaned back against the couch, resting on one arm. Annette, still on an emotional high, couldn’t help but drink him in while he wasn’t looking her way, running her eyes from the point of his chin down the line of his neck, all the way down his stupid long legs and those outrageous boots. She wondered what it would be like to peel them off, or better yet, wear them…

Her body felt very warm all of a sudden, like his proximity was just now getting to her. She debated the pros and cons of launching herself at him. Pros: self-explanatory. Cons: her enthusiasm would freak him out, he’d take back the things he said, and they’d return to their awkward stalemate. 

Better not test things too soon. 

“Well,” she sighed, pretending to examine her fingers. “I guess that’s that. I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“So you’re leaving, then.” It wasn’t a question, but he sounded almost playful. “Now who’s running away?”

Annette glared up at him and put a hand on her hip. “Excuse you, I’m not running away!”

Was he doing this to her on purpose? After wandering the whole damn castle and bearing her heart and soul like this? Goddess, he could be such a nuisance. It’s a shame he was also, well, _hot_.

He raised an eyebrow briefly in response. The smile had faded to his usual facade of disinterest. “Then stay.” 

It was so casual, a whispered suggestion of an obvious choice. Not like the desperate, lonely plea she’d heard last time. 

She hesitated. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “You can sleep in the bathtub.”

“Felix! You’re such a jerk!” Annette threw her fist at his shoulder, but he caught it easily. The motion pulled them even closer together. Her breathing picked up. Felix looked down, still holding her hand, the air between them heavy and warm from the fire.

She kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!” Felix yelped. “Why are you being so violent?”

“Just kiss me, you asshole!”

So he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Add me to the ranks of writers who hadn't written anything (fan content or otherwise) in years until this game drop kicked me in the ribs and threw me into fandom again.  
> If you read this, know that it took me way too long to write and the fact that anyone else's eyeballs may see it is terrifying. 
> 
> So, thanks! (runs away)
> 
> Find me on twitter @imachillydeer


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